Spring Rolls
by OzGeek
Summary: Abby's plan to make spring rolls for lunch has consequences for McGee. Oneshot.


Based on a true story - without the McWump. Set very early season 3. Dug up from the vault.

**Spring Rolls**

Abby and Ziva had tried to convince them that it was a great idea: home made spring rolls at work! Abby was keen to show Ziva some exotic cooking and the three bachelor boys were just the ones to complete the party. Gibbs, Tony and McGee had exchanged skeptical glances.

"I know," Abby consoled them, "healthy food. Sometimes you just have to live a little."

So here they all were in Abby's lab surrounded by the kind of fresh ingredients the males had only ever seen in passing in the fruit and vegetable section of their local supermarket. Abby's wok took pride of place in the center of the display.

"OK," Abby began when they were all assembled. "We're going to chop everything up." She indicated the five chopping boards and accompanying knives she had set up on the benches with a majestic sweep of her hand. "Then you pick the bits you want, roll them up and cook them. Simple!"

Gibbs, Tony and McGee still did not look convinced.

"What's this thing?" Tony held up large round vegetable.

"It's cabbage, Tony, people live off that stuff. Now chop!" she ordered. "I need someone to do the prawn heads."

"Shrimp heads," Tony corrected.

"Not according to 'Asian Cooking for Dummies'," Abby lectured with her finger. "McGee?"

McGee blanched. "Ah, Abbs, I'm allergic to shellfish."

"That's your excuse for everything," Tony whined: "allergic to cats, allergic to shellfish, allergic to poison ivy, get seasick even in dock. Be a man Probie: rip off their heads."

Abby put a comforting arm around McGee's shoulders. "I got you some chicken."

"Thanks," he smiled sarcastically.

"Chop!" Abby commanded holding a large carrot in front of his eyes. "I've just sharpened the knives."

McGee couldn't help feeling Abby had enjoyed sharpening the knives; almost as much as Ziva was currently enjoying ripping the heads of the poor helpless prawns. He was sure prawn heads could actually be cut off with a knife but Ziva seemed to take great delight in the personal touch.

It had been a while since Gibbs, Tony or McGee had chopped fresh food of any kind and all three were finding it hard going. Abby was a hard task master strutting around the room with her hands clasped firmly behind her back like a school mistress. She stopped pacing and perched her chin on McGee's shoulder, looking down at his earnest work. "Thinner," came the verdict. "I want them shredded."

"If you wanted them shredded, why didn't you just get a shredder?" he grumbled. He went for one last lengthwise slice and swore as the knife slid off the side of the narrow piece and sliced down part of his right thumb. He dropped the knife with a clutter and stuck the thumb in his mouth.

Tony laughed at him. "Good look, Probie."

McGee graced him with a sour expression and inspected his thumb. The knife had sliced off a flap of his fingertip and the blood was bubbling out like an oil well. He paled.

Gibbs came over to observe. "I'd put something on that," he warned, raising an eyebrow.

"First aid kit's in the back," called Abby. "We're just about ready to fill so hurry back."

Tasting the metallic blood as he sucked, McGee strode to where he knew the first aid box lived. He flipped open the lid with his good hand and found a box of suitable bandages which he attempted to open one-hand. Failing miserably he sighed, pulled up a chair and removed his injured thumb from his mouth. It took a moment of fiddling with the box before he realised there was a red trail running down his hand and onto his clothing. He stared horrified at the blood stained cuff of his shirt; bright red, wet and glistening.

Almost immediately, he felt faint. A cold shadow seemed to have passed over him leaving him covered in a fine layer of sweat. His stomach clenched and he groped urgently for the plastic trash bin he had seen out of the corner of his eye. The moment his fingers made contact, he whisked the bin up onto his lap, grasping it tightly with both hands and resting his chin on the rim. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and evenly.

"No throwing up," he told himself firmly. He had never lived down the autopsy incident and he was not going to let this be yet another story in Tony's arsenal. He swallowed harshly and opened his eyes again. Feeling the gag reflex bite, he leant his head closer into the bin. It was then he noticed the blood flowing freely down the inside of the trash bin and pooling at the bottom.

"Oh boy," he said hazily as the world began to fade.

* * *

The loud chattering in the lab turned to stony silence at the sound of a heavy fall. The three agents strained their ears like prairie dogs.

"McGee?" Abby called out tentatively.

"That's a body falling Abbs," said Tony as he rose.

"He probably just knocked down the first aid kit," Abby suggested.

"Definitely a body," confirmed Ziva following Tony single file to the back of the room.

"Are you sure?"

"It's what we do, Abs," Gibbs murmured following Tony and Ziva.

When Abby arrived at the scene McGee was lying motionless on the floor on his right side with the trash bin stuck under his left arm. He looked pale enough to be dead, and she'd seen enough bodies now to make the comparison.

Tony and Ziva were arguing.

"He was clearly sitting on that chair first with the box or plasters, then he hit the bin on the way down," Ziva explained.

"No, no, no," Tony corrected her. "He was gonna hurl, so he's picked up the trash bin and then wham! Down for the count. Look, there's blood INSIDE the bin but his thumb is nowhere near it."

Ziva looked over McGee's lifeless form and into the bin. "Hmm, I stand corrected," she said nodding deftly to Tony.

"If you guys have finished analysing the crap out of this, do you think we could patch him up before he bleeds out?" Gibbs observed dryly.

"Right."

"Sorry boss."

Ziva picked up the bandages and sat next to McGee's still gushing thumb. She looked from the box to the thumb and back again for a moment before tossing the box aside and searching something a bit more substantial in the first aid kit. She gave a satisfied nod as she found some tough gauze and binding tape and returned to McGee's side.

Gently, she lifted the bleeding thumb and wiped off the excess blood. She opened her mouth to say something when Abby took the gauze pad from her possessively but then declined, smiling graciously instead. Abby was very jealous of all her men and Ziva was still learning the boundaries.

"Why don't you hold his hand, while I bandage," she suggested gently.

McGee awoke feeling entirely wretched: his head was throbbing, and he felt nauseous, cold and sweaty. He was on his right side and he had the feeling he had been lying on that one ear for too long. Looking around blearily without moving his head too much he met Tony's maniacal grin. Terrific: his mortification was complete. The incident had been officially placed on Tony's anecdote stack. Damn. He wished insanely that they would all magically disappear and let him die in peace.

His right hand was being held. Straining his eyes to focus, he saw Abby holding his hand while Ziva worked on his thumb. At least they weren't fighting. Abby must be in a charitable mood. His stomach did a roller coaster somersault as he caught sight of the blood on the floor and he closed his eyes with a groan, resting his head back against the floor to let the feeling pass.

When he opened his eyes again, his injured hand felt thick and warm. Gibbs was talking to him. He couldn't quite make out the words but before he had a chance to figure it out, Gibbs paused, waiting expectantly for an answer. McGee could almost see the cursor blinking impatiently at him but he had no idea what response was expected.

"What?" he managed to squeak out in a prepubescent voice. He blinked a couple of times but it didn't seem to help.

"Ducky's at lunch," Gibbs told him. "I've left a message."

Hey, he understood that! Things were looking up. Hold on: Gibbs leaving a message for Ducky and Ducky managing to receive it? Not a chance.

He nodded his head to indicate he had understood and immediately wished he hadn't. A wave of dizziness washed from one side of his head to the other and back. He sighed miserably and rested his head again.

His eyes met Abby's concerned face. "Did I hurl on your floor?" he rasped.

"No but there's a lot of blood everywhere," she complained. "It doesn't smell as much but it stains."

"Oh, I have something in my backpack that gets that right out," Ziva assured her with a pat of her arm.

The question "why?" hung on everyone's lips but no one voiced it.

"So McGeek, how you feeling?" came Tony's jovial voice.

"I feel like crap, Tony," McGee answered in a voice approaching normality. "Thanks for asking."

"So can I have your spring roll?"

"Oh, the spring rolls!" Abby jumped up suddenly. "Let's bring them over here. Stay put McGee, we're coming to you."

She started herding people towards the food managing to gather Ziva and Gibbs but Tony stayed behind. Slowly McGee rolled onto his back, shifting his weight to relieve the pressure on his aching ear and propping up his knees to encourage the blood flow back to his brain.

He saw Tony bend down towards him and braced himself for whatever banal comment was about to come his way. "Not having a great day, McGee?" Tony said sympathetically, patting him on the top of his knees.

"Not the best, no," McGee agreed jamming his teeth together so they didn't chatter too loudly.

McGee watched wordlessly as Tony rustled around Abby's shelves for a suitable a stuffed toy. Tucking it under McGee's head, he followed up by shrugging off his jacket and improvising a blanket. "Don't bleed on it," he warned.

"What, like you did on my tie?"

"Yeah, don't bleed on my jacket the way I bled on your tie," Tony confirmed. "Of course, I'm sure Ziva's got something in her bag that would get it right out."

There was a simultaneous snort of laughter between them as the others arrived back.

"I made you some, Tony," said Abby passing over a plate. "There's some chicken ones there for you too, McGee, when you're up to it."

"Thanks Abbs," he smiled at her from the floor.

Tony, Abby, Gibbs and Ziva sat cross legged on the floor around McGee's body, Abby balancing a bowl of dipping sauce on his navel for good measure.

"You got to loose some weight there McGee," she chastised. "This bowl's going to tip."

McGee pulled a face at her.

Tony leant over and crunched his spring roll letting the crumbs cascade gently onto McGee's face.

"Hey…," McGee started.

"What?" said Tony innocently. "You're the table."

"All right," McGee agreed, "but it's your jacket."

Tony coughed suddenly. "No, not the jacket. Come on everyone, eat neatly."

"Here, try one," Abby said inserting a hot roll into McGee's mouth. He took a bite as she withdrew the roll.

"Hmm, not bad," he said through a mouthful of food.

"See," Abby punched him in the arm, "told you healthy food is good for you."


End file.
